Into the Light: Real Life Stories About Angelic Visits, Visions of the Afterlife, and Other Pre-Death Experiences

By John Lerma

“The chronicle of a scientist and humanitarian on a journey of discovery into the mysteries of death and what comes after . . . [a] lovely book.”— #1 New York Times bestselling author


In the groundbreaking book, Dr. John Lerma shares his valuable research on pre-death hallucinations from the countless terminally ill patients he lovingly cares for as a doctor and director at The Medical Center of Houston, Texas. Sixteen inspirational stories chronicle children and adults confronting their deaths through the comforting visions of divine beings. By presenting these mysterious visions, synchronicities, and angelic conversations his patients encounter, Dr. Lerma shows how knowledge of death can ease the pain and fear as we prepare to enter into the light.
 
In this book you will learn: the exhilarating and calming elements of pre-death experiences; healing during the dying process; the difference between hallucinations and visions; and self-forgiveness and self-love as the key to a joyous life and a peaceful transition. The mystical experiences described here delve into the creation of the universe, past and future extinctions, dark angels and white angels, selfless suffering and its effect on humanity, free will as the vital ingredient to create on earth and in heaven, and many more incredible revelations. The poignant stories in Into the Light will leave you feeling uplifted in faith, hope, and love.
 
“Finally, a science-minded physician has addressed the phenomenon of pre-death experiences with compassion, comprehension, and candor . . . you will be uplifted and inspired by this book.”—Gary E. Schwartz, PhD, professor of psychology and medicine at the University of Arizona and author of Super Synchronicity

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Nov 15, 2007
• ISBN: 9781601639646

John Lerma

John Lerma, M.D., is the inpatient medical director for the internationally renowned TMC Hospice, part of the largest medical center in the world, The Medical Center of Houston. After graduating with honors from The University of Texas in Austin with a pharmacy degree, he entered The University of Texas San Antonio medical school and received his board certification in both Internal Medicine as well as Hospice and Palliative Medicine. He has spent the last 10 years caring for the terminally ill and is widely recognized for his compassionate care and for his teaching of end-of-life care to nurses, medical students, and resident physicians. He is currently involved in a research project in palliative medicine with MD Anderson Hospital, the leading cancer institute in the world. Dr. Lerma is a frequent guest on local, national, and international radio and TV.

Book preview

Preface

I’m often described as a high-energy individual, and most people want to know why I specialized in hospice and palliative medicine. Even my family could not figure it out at first. They said, You spent all that time learning to heal people, and now you want to help them die? Or, Why would you want to spend so much time with people who are about to die, isn’t it depressing? Some people seem to think hospice doctors should be serious and talk in a soft voice, but those who are dying do not want that at all. They want to be treated the same as everyone else, as they are the same as everyone else. They want you to joke with them, laugh, and do silly things to amuse them and keep them engaged in life. The terminally ill yearn for these joyful attitudes, as they ultimately grasp the meaning of life and death, and an understanding that this phase of life should be celebrated and honored as the beginning of an awe-inspiring journey—a journey that leads us into the arms of our loving Creator.

During medical school, and as an intern, I had to contend with the onset of the AIDS epidemic, and it was devastating. The predictions for the infected population were dire. I gained great respect for the process of death during this time, and I wanted so much to help these souls complete their lives in a joyful way, instead of just trying to help them survive. It was excruciating at times to revive patients who I knew wanted to die, but were too incapacitated to express their wishes. I knew there had to be a better way to deal with the futility of this disease, as fighting tooth and nail and forcing patients to endure great pain, just to postpone the inevitable, was inhumane. After all, who were we trying to serve: ourselves or the patients?

Within a period of a few months, I witnessed an astonishing event that would later not only launch my career into hospice and palliative medicine, but ultimately reveal the answer regarding the futility of medical care. I was an intern working in a San Antonio hospital one full-moon night when a fatal head-on collision sent five patients to our emergency room. The victims were triaged and the youngest patients with the best chance of survival got the top doctors. For the interim, I was to care for patients with minor problems or patients with the least chance of survival. At that moment, Ricardo, an 82-year-old man, was brought in by the paramedics after collapsing at home during dinner. He was rushed into the trauma room, where I promptly initiated cardiopulmonary resuscitation. After the first shock, normal heart rhythm returned. Ricardo aroused slowly, mumbling something about the light and being out of his body. As I worked at stabilizing his heart rhythm, he continued to repeat the sentence It felt like a roller coaster ride; it felt like a roller coaster. More alert now, he was able to communicate his symptoms, which included chest pain. I reassured him that pain medicine was given and told him not to worry. To keep him engaged, I asked him to tell me more about his roller-coaster ride. Ricardo replied, I don’t know what was happening except that I was flying over my body, and angels began to show me things I had done in my life. He looked at me, and with an elated smile said, It was so beautiful. God and the angels told me I would survive this. Just after that brief conversation, he flat-lined and was shocked once more with no response. It was not until I injected epinephrine directly into his heart that a cardiac rhythm was obtained. He was rushed to the cardiac care unit where the cardiologists initiated several intravenous anti-arrhythmics in an attempt to stabilize his heart rate and rhythm. In the end, Ricardo had suffered a massive heart attack that responded well to the anti-arrhythmics, anticoagulants, and angioplasty.

While visiting the patients I had admitted the night before, I saw Ricardo waving and signaling to visit him first. I could not believe this man was awake, let alone alive. With a radiant smile that appeared to illuminate his whole countenance, he said, Thank you for helping me. I told him I was so excited he had made a remarkable recovery. He said, I owe it all to God. Dr Lerma, do you remember our conversation about the light and being out of my body?

"Of course I do," I replied.

Ricardo continued, Well, I had a lot of realizations during that time. I guess you can say I negotiated with the angels and God to make things right with my family. You see, Dr. Lerma, I was abusive with my family and friends, and God gave me the opportunity to mend things with my wife. Mesmerized with his comments, I wondered about near-death stories I heard other doctors discuss and whether they were true or just the brain’s response to sudden chemical and gaseous changes. In Ricardo’s case, I was sure something miraculous had occurred, but there was no way of knowing. Completely enthralled, I continued my conversation with Ricardo, hoping there was something he would say that would prove his experience.

Dr. Lerma, I need your help. I know you doubt my story, and in a way, so do I. That is why I need confirmation on whether this spiritual occurrence was real. Before I asked how that could be done, he said, When I was out of my body and floating up above the trauma room I spotted a 1985 quarter lying on the right-hand corner of the 8-foot-high cardiac monitor. It was amidst the dust as if someone had put it there for this very reason. Dr. Lerma, could you please check for me? It would mean so much to me.

I was curious and skeptical enough to oblige him, and went to the emergency room with a ladder. I climbed up, with the nurses standing by. They were also curious to know if a patient had really been able to see something while we were bringing him back to life. We heard stories similar to that all the time, but there was usually no way to prove whether they had really seen something or just imagined it. To our total amazement, there it was, just as he had seen it, and even the year was right: 1985. There seemed no doubt that the only way he could have known it was there was if he placed it there himself or he saw it as he was floating up near the ceiling, as he described. Still skeptical, I wondered if this man could have put the quarter there, so I checked some of the details, and found there was no way he could have known the quarter was there. It had been years since he had been able to climb a ladder, and he had never worked in construction. I could find no connection with anyone who had worked on the newly built emergency trauma rooms. Was this confirmation that we exist beyond the body? At best, it piqued my interest in the death process, which, ultimately, led me into a career where stories such as this were a rule and not an exception.

This book is about ordinary people, in extraordinary situations, who selflessly shared their last days with me, knowing that their stories were going to bring comfort and peace to those who directly or indirectly heard the accounts of an all loving and righteous God. The heartfelt accounts of God’s love as told by a 9-year-old boy, a murderer, a drug user, a Christian minister, an atheist, and a German Nazi are not only mystifying, but healing and uplifting. They all speak of the One God that creates with total love, forever reminding us that everyone on this planet serves a purpose and is unified from the same wholeness—a wholeness that will, in due time, create universal and eternal peace and love.

One patient’s account reveals how unconditional love and random acts of kindness raise the level of humanity and spiritual growth for our planet and universe. Another patient explains that, as science and spirituality unite, many discoveries will be made, including a protein sequence in DNA that, when activated, will accelerate our progression to peaceful entities. Many of the visions and messages talk in depth about the need for self-love and self-forgiveness in order to have a loving earthly relationship and ultimately a peaceful transition back to God. Some of the people in the book had peaceful transitions and others difficult ones; nonetheless, the common denominator was their desire to provide further insight into the mysterious interface between life and death.

When I first began to reveal these stories as well as my personal research on the validity of pre-death visions, I faced criticism from and investigations by the medical community. I was compelled to continue my research as well as share the extraordinary tales of comfort and compassion; however, I did this at great peril to my career, truly believing that the messages these stories conveyed were instrumental in providing relief of both patients’ and families spiritual, emotional, and interpersonal pain. The outcomes were simply astounding. Hence, the project of investigating pre-death experiences (PDEs) began. By the time Into the Light was written, I had successfully interviewed more than 2,000 terminally ill patients and recorded more than 500 pre-death experiences.

At my core, I am a scientist, and I did not come to the idea of angels and non-physical entities easily. I believed science had not done enough to narrowly define life, so I began with a skeptical view of the seemingly large number of supernatural occurrences that preceded death. When possible, I found a rational explanation and most often attributed the patients’ visions to their advancing disease, medications, or a complete shutdown of body systems. Nevertheless, the similarity and sheer number of stories, as well as some unexplainable phenomena, began to weigh heavily in favor of something else. I do not attempt to define what that something else is, but simply recount the compelling stories of the terminally ill patients under my care.

The religious aspects of the stories come from the individuals and do not necessarily reflect my beliefs, for I am still observing and holding a place of scientific observation and skepticism while considering all of the possibilities. From a place of true compassion, I am presenting these heartfelt and spiritual experiences as inspiration and encouragement for the dying and the survivors of loss, and that includes all of us. My intention is to offer what I have observed and learned from the countless loving patients I had the honor of comforting, and that is the presence of hope, redemption, and unconditional love that exists at the end of our earthly journey. My hope is that the medical industry will embrace this information and gain new understanding of the dying process so as to focus greater attention on the spiritual needs of their patients as they leave this world.

The accounts in this book are of hospice patients during their last hours to days before making their final and most sacred journey. (Note that, although I use quotation marks to signify conversation between my patients, their families, and me throughout the book, they are actually a mixture of quotations from notes taken while interviewing patients as well as from my memory.) Most of the stories explore the mysterious realms of visions, synchronicities, prophecies, and the quantum field of infinite possibilities. Due to the unusually personal nature of the accounts, I have changed names and personal details. I hope you will enjoy and be uplifted by the amazing messages from the angels.

Introduction

The Last Days of Life

In the last days of life, the terminally ill retreat within themselves as a way of preparing to release their soul. They tend to relive events in the distant past with varying feelings and often need help in obtaining closure. This is important to the timely release of the soul. During this time, the patient may stare intently at corners in the room, or have brief conversations with unseen spirits of deceased family members or brilliantly lit angelic beings. It is these spiritual beings that bring comfort and peace, and aid the patient in resolving unsettled emotional, interpersonal, and spiritual issues, with the ultimate goal of a peaceful transition to the afterlife. One may be quick to judge and openly discuss the patient’s hallucinatory and delirious behavior, not realizing that these negative assertions dissuade the patient from openly discussing his or her spiritual experiences (which, ironically, only ends up prolonging the patient’s suffering). To foster peace, family or friends should attempt at creating a secure and loving environment, free of criticism. This action allows the patient to describe his or her comforting visions as well as redemptive experiences, with the ultimate effect being the liberation of their emotional, interpersonal, and spiritual pain.

A strong desire to go home is expressed, even when the patient is at home. He or she may start speaking of needing to catch the train, catch the bus, or fly home. These phrases are metaphors for the final and most sacred journey to heaven. The patient may reach upward as if attempting to feel the intangible. Many patients describe this reaching as an attempt to hold hands with their deceased loved one’s or caress an angel’s wings. At this point, the spiritual beings are summoning the patient to walk towards them and into the light.

As evening approaches, delirium surfaces. The patient may begin picking or pulling off clothes, bedsheets, or intravenous lines or catheters. This is known as delirium, and is caused by a multitude of factors, including but not limited to pain, the inability to fully empty the bladder, constipation, dehydration, liver and kidney failure, fever, infection, low blood oxygen content, and, last but not least, the advancement of the disease process. Treatment varies and may include opiates such as morphine for pain and suffocation; a catheter for the release of retained urine; laxatives for constipation; intravenous or subcutaneous fluids for dehydration; oxygen via a nasal cannula or mask; and sedatives such as haloperidol, chlorpromazine, or, less often, lorazepam to provide rapid and lasting comfort.

At this point, the use of opiates and sedatives, whose main side effect is sedation, is usually necessary to comfort and protect the patient. The balance between relieving pain and maintaining cognitive awareness during the last few days of life will decrease dramatically, but with necessity. With the body’s toxins elevating exponentially during the last few hours to days of life, this will further compromise one’s ability to remain alert. One has to remember that this is the body’s way of removing the patient’s awareness of dying in order to protect the patient from the traumatic effects of the process. Families and friends would love to have their loved ones awake throughout the entire process, but the fact is that this would be too distressing for the patient.

It is imperative that family and friends allow the patient to sleep as often and as much as he or she desires during this last phase of dying. With the understanding that the hearing nerve most often survives the caustic processes of dying, family and friends, especially the patient, will find that brushing their loved one’s hair lightly, moisturizing their dry lips and parched mouth, and providing soft verbal reassurances that all family and friends are united in love and in prayer, will bring him or her a sense of closure and peace. Continued encouragement to follow God’s angels, as well as the patient’s deceased loved ones, will assure a peaceful transition to the heavenly realm.

With a decreased level of consciousness, congestion of the lungs, a lack of palpable distal pulses, and cyanotic extremities, one is almost certain that death is hours away. During this time period, the patient has usually attained mind, body, and spirit closure, and is left feeling elated and exhilarated. Within minutes of departure from this world, one might notice one last tear and smile. This last tear is often termed epihora. Family and friends who have been intimately involved in relieving the patient’s total body pain are sustained by an immense feeling of reassurance that their loved one was carried on the wings of angels to God’s heavenly kingdom.

Chapter 1

Negotiating With Angels

It was one of those blindingly hot July days, dripping with humidity, when I pulled into Houston Hospice in my usual hurry. As I walked towards the hospice house, I took a moment to appreciate the serene gardens and breathe in the verdant beauty, as it seemingly emanated a sense of peace and love that was almost palpable. My pace suddenly slowed as I was now surrounded by gentleness, kindness, and perfect love. I had always sensed this love and peace radiate from the hospice facility, but never to this degree. I was about to meet wisdom and knowledge in the form of a blind 9-year-old boy with terminal cancer.

Matthew was not assigned to me. His usual doctor was unavailable to attend to him, so she asked if I could handle his admission to the inpatient care facility, the last stop for most terminally ill patients. I was happy to do it. I had heard that this was a very special 9-year-old boy, who had requested a transfer from home hospice to the inpatient unit so as not to cause further hardship on his family. I was curious to see what kind of child would do that. Walking toward his room, I skimmed through the hundreds of medical and surgical reports as well as the invasive and aggressive treatments Matthew had received over the last two years. I was in awe of how anyone, let alone this young, vibrant boy, could still be alive.

I took a deep breath as I entered his room and immediately felt a wave of compassion as I took stock of the ravages of his illness. Immediately I sensed there was something else present that drew my attention more strongly, something

Reviews for Into the Light

[Kayla Parker Brooks · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I cried and praised our Lord after reading this. Cried because of an overwhelming sense of Love. This is a must read for anybody who has doubts of their own existence, the angels and God's. This book actually in my opinion is...the definition of Love! KB

[biunicorn_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Into the LightReal Life Stories About Angelic Visits, Visions of the Afterlife,And Other Pre-Death ExperiencesbyJohn Lerma, M.D. I really enjoyed this 240 page collection of people and their experiences surrounding death and pre-death in all it's many facets. I loved the format and the easy style of this author's honest and kind words. I have found the energy surrounding the passing from one life to another is fraught with many different emotions and this book touches on the subject in a very informative, and non-intrusive way while still bringing much needed wisdom and clarity to those of us who remain. This was a read I had a hard time putting down, because i found myself racing through the incredible poignant story of one hospice patient after the other, crying, laughing and smiling with an inner knowledge that we will all go to a better place. I would recommend this special and miraculous friend to anyone attracted to the glorious realm of light and all the many treasures that await us. Thanks John, for the magnitude of your devotion and your God-given ability to share it with us. Love & Light, Riki Frahmann